He rotated slowly in front of the mirror, apparently unable to drag his eyes away from his own image, saying absently, ‘How long before our first assignment, do you think?’

Again, no response. He sighed and turned around. ‘I knew being in the Time Police was going to be tough, but I never thought it would be this bad. Let me try again. Our fellow trainees – Team Two-Three-Five – went out yesterday. Everyone else is out. Surely it must be our turn soon.’

He pulled an imaginary gun from his hip and fired at his reflection.

‘Missed,’ said Farrell, sardonically.

Parrish ignored him. ‘What do you think we’ll get? Illegal assassination attempt? Treasure hunters? Someone building a dimension-warping device in their spare bedroom?’

He fired again. From the hip, this time. ‘And as soon as we’re qualified, we can go armed all the time. Pretty cool, eh?’

Farrell rolled his eyes. Parrish sighed. ‘Have you exceeded today’s word quota? Or is it me?’

Farrell shook his head. If addressed, he would respond briefly but he rarely initiated conversation or made small talk. His attitude was very clearly that talking just wasn’t something he did if he could help it. It wasn’t just Parrish who thought him odd. The consensus around the Time Police was that there was something seriously wrong with him. Well, his parents were from St Mary’s so there was certainly something seriously wrong with him.

Time Police officers are not noted for their sensitivity or tact and so the bulk of them usually stayed well clear of ­Matthew. Something which suited him well enough. Being small and wiry he had, on occasions, found himself pushed into a quiet corner and given some grief. The more intelligent of his tormentors found his lack of response worrying, and within a few minutes would pull their less enlightened colleagues away with the time-honoured phrase, ‘Leave it, mate – he’s not worth it,’ thus displaying an intelligence and acumen entirely wasted on the Time Police.

The door opened and while two members of Team 236 immediately rose to their feet, Trainee Parrish appeared to be experiencing his usual difficulty adjusting himself to the correct method of addressing senior officers.

Accustomed as he was to Time Police standardisation, Major Ellis regarded his new team with resignation. Two of them, Farrell and Lockland, only just cleared the minimum height requirement and Parrish, though tall, was slight. The traditional Time Police officer bulked himself out with long hours in the gym but these three showed no signs of even knowing where the gym was. Ellis sighed. The weirdo, the mouse and the playboy. However, as Commander Hay had said, only six months, and then they could all go their separate ways and Matthew Farrell would be safely ensconced in the Map Room, which was everyone’s goal. Including Farrell himself. All he, Ellis, had to do, was get them there.